


The Sweetest Thing

by scruffandyarn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, SO MUCH FLUFF, gestational diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scruffandyarn/pseuds/scruffandyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We had a few requests for pregnancy fics (at angelsxreader) involving Gabriel, but nothing really hit me for inspiration.  Until I had to teach a diabetes lesson to a bunch of sixth grade boys (by the way, trying to explain gestational diabetes to a bunch of hormone-driven boys was not my idea of a good time).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sweetest Thing

You fiddled with the ring on your finger as your doctor left the room so you could change.  There was no point in getting upset.  And at least they weren’t putting you on injections–just a meal and exercise plan.  Not that it suddenly made everything all better for you, but the baby wasn’t affected by it, and that’s all that should matter.

As you changed from the hospital gown back into your regular clothes, you wondered what you were going to tell your husband.  He’d definitely want to know the diagnosis, but there was nothing he could do to fix this.  Having limited angelic powers after being “killed” by his brother–if he knew, he’d just wind up getting frustrated with himself for not being able to make you better.

**.  
**

You walked into your house, your feet and back aching.  All you wanted was to collapse on your bed.  Except–you weren’t alone.  You could hear someone rummaging through the kitchen.  No one else was supposed to be there.  Just you.  Gabriel was out with his brother and the Winchesters.

Shit.

You crept towards the kitchen as quietly as you could, stopping long enough to grab the angel blade Gabriel had crafted for you (this one was definitely not from a soda can) from your bedroom.  Hopefully, just the fact that you had it would scare off any intruder–physical combat while pregnant was not the kind of exercise your doctor had recommended.  

Kicking open the door to the kitchen, you froze.  Gabriel spun around at the sound of your entrance, poised to attack whoever or whatever had just barged in, his own angel blade in his hand.

“Gabriel?”

“What in Dad’s name do you think you’re doing, ______?” His angel blade vanished and he glared at you.  “You come in here, six months pregnant, ready to attack someone?  Why the Hell didn’t you pray to me before barging in here?”

“I–” You hadn’t even thought of it.  Your mind had been so preoccupied with how you were going to explain your doctor’s visit without revealing everything that you hadn’t considered praying to your husband at the sound of an intruder.  “I’m a hunter.  I can take care of myself,” you finished, lamely.

“Yeah, but it’s not just you anymore.”  His tone gentled.  “And how’s our little one doing?  Did everything go okay at the doctor’s?” He walked over and kissed you before leaning down and kissing your bump.  “How are you doing, pumpkin?” He asked your belly.  “Are you being good for Mommy?”

“The baby is doing very well–what are you doing here?” You set your blade down on the counter and stared at him.  

“Last I checked, I lived here.” His impish grin had you rolling your eyes.  “We wrapped up early.  I wanted to get back before your doctor’s appointment, but it seems there was a slight miscalculation on the number of blood-suckers we were dealing with.  But, you know–Dean’s always had trouble with numbers over ten.”

“Be nice.” You smiled, glad he’d made it back to you in one piece.  The moment you’d discovered your pregnancy, you’d been benched from hunting, and it always made you nervous when you weren’t there to watch Gabriel’s back.

“I’m always nice.  I even made you dinner–human style and everything.”

You looked over at the stove to see two pots simmering something that–now that you weren’t hopped up on adrenaline–smelled incredible.  The oven light was on, and something was roasting.  On the counter, near where you’d placed your angel blade sat a plate-full of–damn it.

Cookies.  Your favorite cookies.  The ones Gabriel would make whenever you were having an off day.  The ones you’d been craving on an almost daily basis since you’d gotten pregnant.

The ones your new diet weren’t going to allow you to eat.

Your mouth was watering already.  “I, um, I’m not very hungry,” you said, even as your stomach began to rumble.

“Maybe you’re not, but it sounds like the baby certainly is.” He grinned and reached for the cookies.  “You wanna spoil your dinner?” He wiggled his eyebrows and waved the plate under your nose.

“Gabriel–stop.”  One wouldn’t hurt, right?  Just one couldn’t–no.  You had to be strong.  This was your health, and the health of your baby.  “I can’t.”  You’d deny it afterwards, but you pouted at the plate of cookies.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been over this–it’s normal for the scale to change now that you’re eating for two.”

“No, no–not that–well, yes that, but I can’t.  The doctor says I have to cut back on sugar.”  His mention of your weight had you self-conscious as well as health-conscious.  Being pregnant was no fun.

“Why?” He set the plate down and frowned.  “You said the baby was fine.”

“The baby is fine,” you insisted.  “It’s me that’s not doing so well.”

“What?” Now he was panicked.  Great.  So not what you’d set out to accomplish.  “What does that mean?  What’s wrong?  Are you hurt?…”  His hands were flying around about as fast as his questions were.

You reached out and took his hands in yours, which also succeeded in quieting him.  “It seems like I’ve developed gestational diabetes.  My dad being diabetic put me at risk for it, and I’m sure all those cookies I’ve been eating haven’t helped any.” You bit your lip.  “It’s not serious enough that I’m being put on insulin injections–I just have to monitor what I eat.”

“Diabetes.”

“Yeah.  It’s never shown up before, so it’s likely that it will just last through the pregnancy.”

“But there’s always a possibility that it stays with you.”

You sighed.  Yeah, that was a possibility.

“And I can’t heal you.”

“Baby, please don’t do that.” You kissed the back of each of his hands.  “That’s not what I married you for.  That’s not what I love you for.”  

His frown finally started to fade.

“So–it just means no more cookies for me until after the baby is born.”

He snapped his fingers and the entire plate disappeared.  “No more cookies at all until the baby is born.”

“Gabriel, you don’t have to do that.”

“You’re off sugar, then so am I.”  He snapped again.  “You and I are on a completely healthy diet from here on out.”

“Can you even do that?” You didn’t mean to doubt his intentions, but really?  Candy was his thing.  And he was planning to give it up, just like that?

“You’ll be the only sweet I eat from now on.”  He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, that’s just awful.” You grinned.

**.  
**

Two days later, you and Gabriel decided to take a walk in the local park.  All you really wanted to do was pig out on cookies and put your feet up, but the doctor had recommended exercise, and at least you weren’t having to do it alone.

About halfway through the park, you noticed an ice cream cart.  “Can we go a different way?”  You needed to be strong, but having temptation right in front of you wasn’t helping.

“Wha–oh.”  Gabriel looked longingly at the scoops being spooned onto cones.  The older gentleman working the cart handed the two cones off to two small children who thanked him before running off, leaving their sighing mother to pay their tab.

“Go get some, honey.”

“I–no, no.  We’re doing this together.” He began to veer you deliberately away from the cart.

“You know, it is okay if she eats more, since she’s eating for two, you know.” A man old enough to be your grandfather watched the interaction between you and Gabriel and decided to throw his two cents in as you passed him.  

The woman sitting beside him on the bench leveled a glare at your husband.  “It would be okay, even if she wasn’t eating for two.”

“No, it’s not like that.  She can’t have it.”  Gabriel’s comment had both of them glaring at him.

“What my husband means to say,” you sighed, “Is that I’ve developed diabetes and I can’t have sugar.”  That seemed to placate the two of them.  “And he’s been sweet enough to give up sugar so I don’t have to go this alone.”

“Oh.” The man nodded.  “Well, good for you, son, helping her through this.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the idea that this man thought he was older than Gabriel.

“You hang on to him, sweetheart,” the woman directed at you, “He’s a keeper, just like my Herald.” She patted the man’s knee and he beamed at her.  “And try sugar-free ice cream.”

“Good idea.“ You smiled. "Well, we should finish our walk–doctor’s orders.”  You took Gabriel’s hand and led him on down the path.

“The nerve of those people, thinking I was forcing you to give up sweets!” Gabriel hissed when you were far enough away from them.

“Easy, babe.  They were just looking out for me.”  Naive, yes, but it was nice to know that there were people who cared about other people.

“I can do that fine, without their help.” You rolled your eyes and smiled.  “You think I’m being ridiculous.”  You nodded.  “Fine,” he sighed.  “You want me to see about whipping you up some sugar-free ice cream when we get home?”

“I’d rather have some sugar-free cookies, but only if you can make them taste like the regular ones you make.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled.

**.  
**

“These are AMAZING!” You hadn’t had anything sweet in what felt like years, but had only been a few days.  The taste of your favorite cookies dancing across your tongue made you think you must be in heaven.  “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

“That, and my foot rubs, right?”  Gabriel grinned.

“Seriously?”  Your night was about to get better?  Cookies AND a foot rub?

He laughed and led you over to the couch.  You made sure to grab the plate of now-sugar-free cookies to take with you.  Once he had you seated, he sat down at your feet and pulled your slippers off.

“It’s probably a good thing for you I just showered.”

“My nose definitely appreciates it.”  You stuck your tongue out at him.  He just shook his head and began to gently rub your left foot.

“Yeah, you are most certainly an angel, babe.  This is heaven!” You melted into the couch, setting the plate of cookies on your belly.  “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Heh.  I think I should be asking you that question.”  You cocked your head to the side, mouth full of cookies.  “You know I’ve had quite a few exes.”  You nodded slowly.  “I had a good time with them.  But that’s all they were.  A good time.  There was nothing to build a lifetime on.  But you,” he kissed the top of your foot before placing it on the floor and picking up the right one, “You’ve got something special.  You’ve got this–I don’t know–magical way about you that makes me glad for the loss of angel powers if it means I get to grow old with you.”

And then, there were waterworks.  Even without your pregnancy hormones, you would have been a blubbering mess after that.  You tried to form words, but with the cookies in your mouth and the uncontrollable tears, you kept stuttering over what you were trying to say.

Gabriel just smiled and moved to lean over you.  He set the plate of cookies on the couch next to you before scooping you up, bridal style.  You clung to him, burying your face against his neck.

“Nap time?” he asked, before depositing you gently on your side of the bed.

“Hold me?” You finally managed to form coherent words.  Go you!

“Of course.”

 


End file.
